"When thou 'rt done with this world, and thy folk put thee in the
ground," said the wise woman. "That's the only coat o' clay as 'll make
such as _thee_ wise, lad. Born a fool, die a fool, and be a fool thy
life long, and that's the truth!"

And she went into the house and shut the door.

"Dang it," said the fool. "I must tell my mother she was right after
all, and that she'll never have a wise man for a son!"

And he went off home.

The Three Cows

There was a farmer, and he had three cows, fine fat beauties they were.
One was called Facey, the other Diamond, and the third Beauty. One
morning he went into his cowshed, and there he found Facey so thin that
the wind would have blown her away. Her skin hung loose about her, all
her flesh was gone, and she stared out of her great eyes as though she'd
seen a ghost; and what was more, the fireplace in the kitchen was one
great pile of wood-ash. Well, he was bothered with it; he could not see
how all this had come about.

Next morning his wife went out to the shed, and see! Diamond was for all
the world as wisht a looking creature as Facey--nothing but a bag of
bones, all the flesh gone, and half a rick of wood was gone too; but the
fireplace was piled up three feet high with white wood-ashes. The farmer
determined to watch the third night; so he hid in a closet which opened
out of the parlour, and he left the door just ajar, that he might see
what passed.

Tick, tick, went the clock, and the farmer was nearly tired of waiting;
he had to bite his little finger to keep himself awake, when suddenly
the door of his house flew open, and in rushed maybe a thousand pixies,
laughing and dancing and dragging at Beauty's halter till they had
brought the cow into the middle of the room. The farmer really thought
he should have died with fright, and so perhaps he would had not
curiosity kept him alive.

Tick, tick, went the clock, but he did not hear it now. He was too
intent staring at the pixies and his last beautiful cow. He saw them
throw her down, fall on her, and kill her; then with their knives they
ripped her open, and flayed her as clean as a whistle. Then out ran some
of the little people and brought in firewood and made a roaring blaze on
the hearth, and there they cooked the flesh of the cow--they baked and
they boiled, they stewed and they fried.

"Take care," cried one, who seemed to be the king, "let no bone be
broken."

Well, when they had all eate